29. Renne #2
Like dominoes, they fell dead on the deck and buried me under a pile of their corpses. From there, with my head turned sideways, I had a clear line of sight and saw a man with long dark hair hiding behind the bar and shooting at everyone.
When he ran out of ammunition, he jumped into the sea.
Everything went quiet after that. I didn’t dare move for fear that there were gunmen on the yacht.
But the vessel tilted, and the deck cracked.
Water sloshed over my face, my nose, mouth.
I closed my eyes and tried to think of what to do.
I pushed at the bodies, but couldn’t get them off me.
The only way out was to let the water lift the weight off me.
I had to wait for the yacht to sink and for me to nearly drown in order to try to save myself.
We were sinking for at least an hour. I soiled myself multiple times, but I eventually managed to swim to shore and walk home.
I lived alone, so nobody came to check on me for days.
I tried to end my life twice. Failed both times.
Eventually, my dad came. He took me to the hospital for treatment, not knowing what had happened to me.
That’s how we found out I was pregnant.
The SUV drives past us, and we get beyond the gate, but Connor seems alert still, looking around the car, and even above at the sky. I slow down by the spot on the road where Connor ate me out.
“You remember what we did here?” I sniff.
“I remember everything.”
“I’m sorry, Con. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I wanted to protect Hanna.”
“You can’t hurt me. My parents did that. Especially my mother. She prepared me for any pain a woman might dole out during my life. Don’t worry about me. Do you have an exit plan?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
I do, then look over to see his reaction. He looks like he swallowed a salty grapefruit.
“What? What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Your plan is a disaster.”
“Oh. Sorry. Do you have a better one?”
“I always have a better one. Duh.” Connor reaches into the back pocket of his pants and produces a key. An ancient-looking metal one that opens a cellar or something similar. “It’s not a dungeon key, don’t worry.”
“I thought of a cellar, not a dungeon.”
He shrugs. “Just goes to show that you think like a normal person, and I don’t.
You’re wrong, however. This is a key to a house on sovereign land that’s fiercely protected.
It’s controlled territory; nobody gets through once the protection money has been paid.
You can live there. Comfortably. Nobody will touch you.
But this protection comes at a price for you. ”
“What is it?” I’m not sure I’m ready to pay the price.
“I want to see Hanna for each and every one of her birthdays.”
I cry me a river. I can’t see where I’m driving, and I’m wiping my eyes, but more tears come. I should pull over, but I can’t. We’re in the traffic jam downtown near the hospital anyway, so we’re not driving too fast. “That’s all you want?”
“Yeah. Those are my terms.”
“Is it just Hanna that you want to see?”
He nods. “Don’t make this harder on yourself.”
I take his advice and don’t ask questions with answers that might hurt me. “And your uncle won’t look for me?”
“He’ll look for you, but if he finds you, he’ll stay away. He only wants Daniel Pembroke, and your parents told me where to look for him.”
I step on the brakes. “My parents? You know my parents?”
“Yeah. I visited them.”
“When?”
“Yesterday, while I was gone.” Cars honk, trying to get me to move. I stare at Connor’s profile. It’s a perfect profile. Long, straight nose, pouty lips, hard jawline.
He side-eyes me. “If someone comes at me raging because you’re stopped like this…” He lifts his guns.
“Right. Right.”
“Thank you for contributing to my sanity in a positive way,” he says.
“Are you joking?”
“I’m always joking. Forever the clown.”
I park underground in the doctors’ parking lot because Pete’s car has a permit.
“How are my parents?”
“They’re good.”
“I called my dad today. I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help it. You think they’ll be okay?”
Connor shrugs. “Maybe. Lots of things will unfold now. But I can work better when I know you and the baby are safe.”
“I assume there’s a hospital there where I can work.”
“There is. Listen, Renne, I’m not very good at this, so I’m leaving. Bye, guys.” Connor throws open the door and leaps out of the car. I get out to go after him, but he’s gone.
“Connor,” I call out, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
That’s it? This is how we end?
I imagine if I asked him that, he’d shrug and say, Yeah.
Connor and I are done. Over. Finished. We never had a chance. Oh God, it hurts. I press my hands to my chest, lean against the car, and cry big, ugly tears.
“Ma-ma,” Hanna says.
I sniff and sit in the back next to her. I must’ve imagined my baby speaking. I’m under lots of stress, and I need to stay strong for her.
A phone rings, the sound coming not from my purse but from the diaper bag. I pat around inside the bag until I find a flip phone.
“Hello,” I answer, but the caller hangs up. I look at the private caller ID just as the text message comes on the screen.
Hey, 1023, this is the Clown with a better plan…
I read Connor’s instructions, then unbuckle Hanna’s seat belt and pick her up. I shoulder the diaper bag full of getaway stuff and keep the burner phone, but delete the message with instructions as per Connor’s request.
The bag’s heavy, but I manage to carry it to the bus stop around the corner. I sit on the bench and wait.
“Ma-ma,” my daughter says, blue eyes wide and excited that she can speak.
“Oh my God, baby. Yes, that’s me. I’m your mom.” I squeeze her and replace my tears with a smile. Children have a way of making us smile even when we think we can’t. They are a blessing.